And the Largest of the Senses
by The Black Sun's Daughter
Summary: Ezekiel is fine. Zhu is fine, too. They've seen their coworkers die more times than they can count, seen their dæmons vanish into swirls of golden Dust. He still has nightmares, and sometimes Zhu wakes up biting at empty air, whimpering. But they're fine. Just...fine.


Ezekiel leans against a bookshelf, gasping and trembling, breathing too fast. His head feels like it's going to explode, and his chest is too tight, an invisible vise slowly clamping tighter around his lungs. His body is strangely empty and light, though, and he wonders if this was what it's like to be crazy. It's not so bad. That part probably comes later. He leans over slowly, hands braced on his knees, and Zhu weaves between his ankles, fluffed up until she looks twice her normal size, nipping at his legs like she's trying to assure herself that he's still real, too.

He hasn't had an episode like this for over two weeks now. He's not even sure what triggered it at this point, and he's not sure he can think clearly enough to remember. Right now he's focusing on not throwing up on his shoes. So that's what he does. He traces his eyes over the grain in the floors between the toes of his shoes and starts counting his heartbeats (Cassandra showed him that trick) until his muscles stop trembling with the need to bolt for the nearest exit, his fingers still flexing on a weapon that's not there anymore.

"Zeke," Zhu whines softly, and he reaches to stroke her ears, and she stretches up to nuzzle into his palm, nipping gently at his fingertips. "We're okay, Zeke. We're okay," she whispers softly, and he's not sure either of them believe that.

They're both so focused on staying calm that neither of them hear heavy footsteps approaching, and Ezekiel jumps halfway out of his skin when Jake says his name quietly. He looks up to see the cowboy leaning against the opposing bookshelf, watching him as closely as he studies some piece of art in a museum. "What?" he asks, straightening up immediately, and he can't even find the energy to be a smartarse at the moment, the question coming out short and snappish. Zhu flinches.

Addy flicks one ear, unimpressed, and Jake tilts his head a little, scrutinizing him. "Jones," he murmurs, addressing him by his last name like it's a term of endearment. And it is.

"Go 'way, I'm fine." He is. Zhu's fine, he's fine. They are...fine.

"No, you're not."

 _Piss off, you're not helping,_ a part of him wants to snap, but another part, a much bigger part, wants to beg, _Oh, God, please don't leave me, don't go._ "Am too," he grumbles, ignoring both parts.

The cowboy hums low in his throat. "Maybe. But you're not okay, are you?"

Ezekiel presses his lips together and doesn't answer. He's not a liar. It's something he's prided himself on. He always tells the truth. He'll omit the truth, avoid and evade and duck questions until the cows come home, but he won't lie. So he doesn't say anything, just looks down at the floor again. Zhu whines low in her throat, no longer fluffed up with agitation. Now her ears are pinned back flat and her tail's almost tucked between her legs, slinking with her belly to the floor.

"Jones." He repeats his name only, softly and terribly knowing; Ezekiel barely represses another shudder. Jake steps closer to him, reaching out to brace both hands on the shelves, caging Ezekiel between his arms, and he leans in close, near enough that he can feel the warmth of the other man, body giving off heat like a fire. He dips his chin closer, breath warm and surprisingly sweet. _"Glory be to God for dappled things,"_ he murmurs softly.

"Wha'?"

The cowboy ignores him and inches just a hair closer. _"For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow."_ He tilts his head so his stubble abrades the side of Ezekiel's neck. _"For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim."_

Poetry. This...wanker is actually reciting bloody _poetry_ to him.

 _"Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings."_ Jake's hands slide across the shelves to his shoulders, almost touching but not quite. _"Landscape plotted and pieced — fold, fallow, and plough."_ Another inch closer, his chest brushing Ezekiel's whenever they breathe in at the same time. _"And áll trádes, their gear and tackle and trim."_

Addy nuzzles against Zhu's side, drags a long, raspy tongue over the backs of her ears. Ezekiel shivers at the faint ghost-tickle across his own skin.

 _"All things counter, original, spare, strange."_ He slides his hands downwards, fingertips dragging over book spines until they're level with Ezekiel's hips and stay there, resting against the shelf but still not touching him. _"Whatever is fickle, freckled, who knows how?"_

With a low purr, Addy rakes her teeth through the thicker fur around Zhu's neck, oh-so-delicately.

" _With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim."_ Jake repeats his dæmon's gesture, leaning forward to drag his teeth over the side of Ezekiel's neck, a barely-there caress.

Ezekiel does _not_ whimper. He doesn't.

 _"He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change."_ The cowboy leans right up against him, warm and solid and _alive._ _"Praise him."_

"Ponce," Ezekiel whispers, then buries his face in the crook of Jake's neck and throws both arms around his waist. Fuck the no-PDA-in-the-Library rule. Though he'll deny it forever if anybody asks, right now he clings, and Jake lets him. He presses as close as he can without coming out the other side, hands clenched tight in the back of Jake's stupid flannel shirt, nose buried in the warm hollow of his collarbone where he always smells so good, like old paper and leather and something like brandy, rich and strong but not too sweet. Jake strokes his back and his hair, murmuring in that deep, gravelly Southern burr that Ezekiel finds endlessly comforting. He braces himself up against the bookshelf so Ezekiel can sag bonelessly against him, and _God,_ that feels good.

Zhu is shivering so hard it feels as if she's vibrating, but Addy practically lays on top of her, smothering her in warmth and drowning-soft fur, purring near subvocally. The lynx flexes her claws into Zhu's fur oh-so-gently, the sharp tips only just pricking her, and each miniscule sting of pain is dear to them both, reminding Ezekiel that Addy is real and alive, so is Jake. She wriggles and writhes under the larger dæmon so every bit of her comes into contact with Addy.

Ezekiel's shaking, too, all over the place, and he found that once he started, he couldn't stop. He feels like he might shake apart, all those jagged, broken pieces of himself falling out, except Jake and Addy are holding them together.

He doesn't realise that they've slid down to kneeling on the floor until he feels Zhu butting her head against his thigh, trying to squirm onto his lap like she always does. He leans away from Jake a little to give her room, and he hates the empty space but it's filled again almost immediately with his dæmon. He buries one hand in her fur, tightening his grip until it hurts him a little too, but that's alright.

Jake watches Ezekiel for a moment, then drops his gaze to Zhu, and she's gazing right back up at him, cognac eyes meeting solemn cornflower blue. Silently, the cowboy takes his hand from Ezekiel's shoulder and lowers it to his lap, palm up, not demanding but rather asking for permission. For a span of heartbeats, there's perfect silence, like the Library's holding its breath. Zhu stretches forward and gently lays her head in Jake's palm.

It's all Ezekiel can do not to close his eyes, and only by force of will does he keep them open. Heat. That's what Jake feels like: summer lightning and wildfire licking through his veins, threatening to burst at any given second if he doesn't let go of Zhu. But he doesn't want Jake to let go. The burning is too good, too sweet, too beautiful, to simply _let go._ His skin tingles and prickles with anbaric pressure, all the fine hairs on his arms standing up. Jake slowly smooths his hand down the fox's back and Zhu arches up into his touch like a cat. Fire sparks along his nerves at the friction. Zhu lets out a low whine that's more felt than heard, a noise he's never heard her make before.

When Ezekiel lifts his head from Jake's shoulder, he sees Addy pressed close along the cowboy's side, watching him with her chartreuse eyes, rimmed in black like Liz Taylor in _Cleopatra._ His hand twitches up, towards her, but hesitates, a part of him resisting.

Jake digs his fingers into Zhu's fur. "Permission is more than implied, Zeke."

So he does what he's wanted to do ever since Addy settled in this form. Ezekiel turns in Jake's arms and buries his face in all that rich, thick fur, raking his fingers through it. Addy doesn't fit into him the way Zhu does, but it isn't a bad fit, either. He breathes in the smell of Addy's fur: red meat, frosty night air, freshly-broken spruce, and the sweet-spicy-bitter scent of Dust.

He's not sure how long they sat there like that, but when Jake strokes a hand down his arm and tugs lightly on his wrist, his knees are starting to ache from kneeling on unforgiving wooden floors. "C'mon, Zeke. C'mon," the cowboy murmurs, rocking back on his heels and tugging Ezekiel to his feet with ease. Before Jake has the chance to pull away from him, Ezekiel presses against his side and slips an arm around his waist; the cowboy only smiles a little, draping his arm over Ezekiel's shoulders, heavy and warm.

Zhu scrabbles at his leg, and he picks her up so she can sit on his shoulders like a dæmon stole, but she darts over to curl herself around Jake's shoulders instead, curling her fluffy tail under his chin. Addy pads along next to Ezekiel's legs, and he lets his fingers brush the top of her head. Now that the initial shock's worn off, it's not quite so intense, the burning. Now it's warm, the thick, heavy warmth of being curled under blankets in the winter with hot cocoa and nowhere else to be.

Cassandra is waiting for them when they emerge from the stacks. She's leaning against a table with her arms folded around Asten, rubbing behind his ears with two fingers. She doesn't even blink twice, seeing them touching each other's dæmons, and Ezekiel wonders if maybe he's been missing more than he realised by trying to close himself off and pretend he's fine. The redhead stands up on her toes a little to kiss Jake, soft and sweet, then turns to kiss Ezekiel too. When she does, Asten nuzzles against his arm, the contact brief but no less exhilarating for it. Yeah, he's definitely been missing out.

She draws back from him, not demanding an answer or explanation, and he thinks again, not for the first time now, that he doesn't know what he'll do without these two now that he's found them. Usually that thought scares the hell out of him, but now he just wants to go home and crawl into their lovely big bed and lay curled up with his redhead and his cowboy all wrapped around him like Librarian blankets. And maybe see if Cassandra will pet Zhu, too.

Asten jumps down from her arms to slink along next to Addy, and Cassandra takes up Ezekiel's free hand in hers, squeezing tightly before wrapping her arm around his waist, her hand brushing Jake's side too where they were leaning against each other.

"I was an idiot, wasn't I?" he murmurs.

"Yes. But we're used to that and love you anyways," Jake answers, turning his head to press a soft, brief kiss to his temple.

"You can make it up to us by promising not to do it again," Cassandra adds, squeezing his waist.

He throws her a smirk and almost means it. "Can't promise, but I will try."

"I'll take that."

They walk out of the Annex like that, arms around each other, and Ezekiel feels himself smile for the first time in what feels like weeks. He's not okay. He probably won't be for a while, but he's better, and sometimes that's all anyone can ask for.

* * *

Jake Stone—Adrasteia, called "Addy," Siberian lynx  
Cassandra Cillian—Asten, common genet  
Ezekiel Jones—Zhu, red fox


End file.
